


Finding Family

by alldaships02



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:28:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22827193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alldaships02/pseuds/alldaships02
Summary: Men like The Vagabond aren’t supposed to feel inadequate. Men like The Vagabond aren’t supposed to feel anything. Some would argue that The Vagabond doesn’t feel anything.That’s where they’re wrong.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Finding Family

**Author's Note:**

> Listen it's 2am, I'm sorry if there are mistakes.
> 
> Update, I'm keeping the name Ryan, but I am taking inspiration from legendaryanimist-arts on Tumblr for his last name, and some other details about him. Ryan Haynes or Vagabond/The Vagabond will be what he's referred to with for all future of my writing. (Here's hoping I don't miss any as I go back to edit).

_Men like The Vagabond aren’t supposed to feel inadequate. Men like The Vagabond aren’t supposed to feel anything. Some would argue that The Vagabond_ **_doesn’t_ ** _feel anything._

_That’s where they’re wrong._

“You’ll **never** be a part of my family, kid, you’re better off dead.” The reeking smell of whiskey and booze rolled off the man in waves, pinning Ryan against the corner where he cowered. His mother curled on the couch, staring dead-eyed at the television, only moving to flinch as the sound of flesh striking flesh filled the tiny room. “ **Useless** boy, your father is gone and you will never be my son, Ryan.”

Small chips of paint stuck to the boy’s scalp, silent tears flowing down his cheeks. The man stumbled off, shooing his new wife towards the fridge for a beer. Pain throbbed in his cheeks, angrily smudging the tears from his cheeks but tiptoeing towards his room.

His stomach rumbled as he curled under the covers, faint bruises protesting asking the man for dinner after what happened last time. Ryan’s hands trembled, exhaustion fighting up to his throat despite the chaos from downstairs bouncing along the walls.

-

The backpack hung heavy on Ryan’s shoulders, hands shaking from adrenaline and exertion.

“One ticket, please?” Ryan looked around the platform quickly, people pushing past him roughly. He winced as his hip collided with the edge of the ticket booth.

“You sure you’re old enough to travel alone, kid? Where are your parents?” The woman looked down at him, a gentle smile creeping onto her lips. “Did you get lost? I can help you find them again.”

“No! I mean… no.” Ryan’s cheek burned, teeth grinding into the tender flesh there. Below the window, his hands wrung into the fabric of his jeans, worried knots filling his stomach. “I’m older than I look…”

“Oh, sorry hun! Where are you headin’?” She smiled, turning to the computer. “I’ll also need a name to place on the ticket, dear.”

“Um… I’m heading to…” His eyes scanned the map, panic fluttering into his throat and filling it with cotton. “Liberty City, and I’m Ryan.”

“Liberty City? That’s awfully far from here, hun.” Her eyebrow twitched up, glancing from the computer towards him.

“I know.”

-

Snow piled, inching up towards the small corner where Ryan sat. His teeth chattered as he hugged his knees and feeling seeped from his fingers to the cold. Two years living in Liberty City, Ryan still hadn't found the best way to escape the snow, but allies were a safe bet. The snow crunching with footsteps that grew ever closer caused Ryan to flinch up against the wall.

“You alright?” Ryan's eyes squeezed shut, preparing for a back-lashing comment that never came. "Oh, kid… Let's get you somewhere warm and dry.”

“No…!” Ryan's hands shook, fingertips flushed in the brittle air. “I'm not going anywhere with you!”

“How old are you, kid?” Ryan eyed the man warily, a particularly strong breeze chilling his bones further.

“Sixteen.”

“Hmm, well if you don't want to go anywhere with me, I'll suppose you don't want to go to the Agency. I've **heard** that they're making hot cocoa around this time, but since you're not interested, I'll go.”

Ryan chewed his lip to stop his chattering teeth, fingers and toes now numb against the freezing temperatures. “Where's the Agency…?”

-

His throat burned as he gulped down the hot drink, insides singing at the warmth it brought back into his fingers. Ryan sighed and held the mug close, eyeing the men in front of him warily.

“So… What is a sixteen-year-old like you doing out here in the dead of winter?”

Ryan sighed, fingers clenching around the mug in an effort to disguise his trembling. “I ran away, sir. I couldn’t stay where I was...”

The men looked at each other, gaze flickering back and forth from Ryan.”Well, kid, how’d you like to work for the Agency?”

“You’ll hire me??” Ryan’s voice rose slightly, hope growing in the new warmth of his bones. “What— uh— what would I have to do? Where would I stay?”

“Here, obviously. I’m Roger, you’d be working for me. I’d control it, no worries, but you will have some say in what you want to do.”

-

Ryan stepped into the office, hands wringing in the fraying corner of his shirt. Behind the beige desk, Roger stared down at the paperwork in front of him. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Haynes, you’re hacking today.” The manila folder slid across the desk, papers barely peeking out.

“Sir, I don’t—” He hesitated, reaching for the folder. “Are you sure I should be doing this? I’m not an adult yet.”

“You’ll have Darren with you.” Roger growled, turning to look at his monitor. “It won’t matter.”

“Sir, you also said I’d have about two weeks to settle in here… It’s only been three days…” Ryan’s lip stung, teeth gnawing on the tender skin.

“Shut it, Haynes. Go, now!”

-

“It’s done, sir.” Ryan sighed, spine aching as he laid against the shitty motel mattress.

“Fucking took you long enough, Haynes.” Roger’s frown could be heard of the phone, anger seeping through the receiver in waves. “What took you so fucking long? Did ya almost pussy out? Killing a guy too much for you?”

“Sir, your intel was wrong. I had to find him first.” The mattress groaned under his weight, barely shifting as he turned to plug in his phone. “This isn’t my first hunting mission, sir. l know what I’m doing.”

“Don’t get fucking cocky, I own you remember?” The slosh of liquid rang out near the receiver, Roger slurping down whatever he was drinking this night.

“I know.” Crickets chirped outside the window, setting sun barely affecting the temperature. Ryan silently shed his jacket, the leather peeling quietly away from his skin.

“Then fuckin’ act like it. Get back tomorrow, you have another job.”

“Another??” Ryan shot up. _When did I forget, how could I have forgotten??_

“Yeah, so get your ass back here. They specially requested you and offered double.” Roger huffed. “She gave me all the intel tonight, it’s in California.”

“You can’t give me the intel now, sir, it would be—” Dial tone now buzzing lightly in his ear, Ryan cursed. He sighed and laid back on the too worn sheets, attempting to get comfortable. “Fuck.”

-

Fabric clung to his skin, blood absorbing into the dark cotton against his stomach. _Shit, shit, shit!_

Faintly his phone buzzed, drowned out in the white noise filling his brain. Hands moving on autopilot to grab the first aid kit in his to go bag. Ryan’s muscles tensed as he tugged off his shirt, paint shooting down his side.

_Thank fuck, it’s not that bad._

Blood dribbled down his stomach from the long gash under his ribs and seeped into the waistband of his jeans. Antiseptic stung in the wound, shocking his system to silence as he wrapped the wound with the cheap bandages. He sighed, wincing as the bandage scratched against the wound.

Jacket and shirt off, Ryan slipped off his shoes and pants, settling in on the crummy motel bed with no care for what may hide within it.

-

His heart hammered in his chest, yelling from the other room jolting his legs into action. The director’s words echoed in his ears.

_“Useless! You can’t go dark in the field, kid. What are you, a vagabond?! Darren, will you take care of this_ **_issue._ ** _”_

The last **issue** the agency had was dumped into the coast, Ryan remembered lugging him out of the car for another agent to dump. A lump lodged in his throat, racking his brain for an escape from the building.

_Stealth, quiet. Remember the lessons they taught you._

**_They’re trying to kill you._ **

_Not if I get to them first._

“Where are ya, kid? I just wanna talk.” Darren’s voice bounced from wall to wall, footsteps echoing as his boots slammed against the floor.

Ryan’s eyes locked on the balcony, eyeing the drop between rooftops. “Just like in practice, Ry, nothing to it…” Ryan gulped, eyes squeezing shut as he leapt from the balcony.

His hands throbbed, concrete scraping against them as he pulled himself over the side. Darren cursed. Ryan waited as the footsteps retreated before darting down the side, fleeing to God knows where in the city.

-

Ryan clutched the knife, leaning against the brick wall with hair pricking at the back of his neck. This new agent they sent after him, seemingly incompetent, was fresh meat. A simple kill, and message, to send to the agency.

“Ah!” The man jumped, stumbling back a few steps at the site of Ryan. “Who are you??”

“It doesn’t matter to you.” His voice rumbled behind the mask, knife twirling in his right hand. “The agency will know.”

“Wait, wait, wait, are you gonna kill me? Oh God! You’re him!” The shorter man’s voice cracked. Ryan’s head tilted, looking him up and down before pointing the knife at his throat. He gulped, glancing at the knife and the mask now inches from his face. “Ryan, the— the Vagabond. Look, I’m Jeremy, I won’t tell anyone. I’m tryin’ to get out too, how’d you get out??”

“I haven’t. Now— go.” Ryan frowned. Tucking the knife back into it’s sheath, he turned away from Jeremy. “Good luck, Jeremy.”

-

Ryan Haynes boarded the plane, helping the elderly woman place her bags in the overhead compartment. Earbuds in and audiobook on, free of any debris and smoke. No one was the wiser that the blonde’s trembling was not from nerves nor his connection to the mysterious explosion of a Georgian facility lined with government secrets.

His destination, after all, was a place no one would question someone a tinge on edge with less than desirable motives. Los Santos has that effect on people.

-

Keys tapped in the dark of the motel room, blood sticking to his jacket and making it squeak.

_Job’s done. Payment?_

**Patience, V, I gotta bloody get there first**

_I don’t have time for these games, Vav._

His computer chimed. A small notification popped up on his account with the paycheck, well over 5k, and a winky face from the hacker.

_You’re infuriating._

**I know ;)**

-

He dabbles, really. Some assassinations here, some hunting and torturing there, an occasional robbery. It keeps the skills sharp, and the mind even sharper. Since he switched over to the dark web for jobs, it’s rare to receive something so low-tech, but there the envelope sits.

Pretty crisp white envelope with a green and black duck wax seal on it. If it weren’t odd enough, it holds only a single slip of paper with an address and a time. And really, it would be rude for him to ignore such a carefully crafted request.

-

The bar stunk of booze making Ryan’s nose crinkle as a drunk clubber shoved past him to the dance floor. _This is why I hated them, right._ A man at the bar scanning the room, a can of diet coke clutched in his hand with a redhead to his left rubbing his shoulder. His shoulders stiffed, glimpsing the mask from across the room and sitting up straighter. _That’s him? Wow, uh, not as expected._ The girl followed his gaze, leaning in closer and whispering something. Ryan sauntered up to the bar, waving over the bartender before turning to the two.

“So, uh… You the Vagabond...?” The man’s voice cracked, face flushing and looking down. He picked up the can, swiftly sipping it.

“What he means is, did you get our letter?” Ryan nodded, carefully taking in the woman before him. “Okay, well I’m Jack, he’s Geoff. We need to ask a little favor of ya, you’ll be paid obviously. We just need someone taken out.”

Ryan sighed, ordering a diet coke from the bar. Loud music shaking the floor, nearly muting the raspy tone he spoke in. “Who?”

-

Ryan blanched, wide-eyed as he peeked around the corner of the aisle. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. Oh it’ll be fine to leave the jacket on, it’s not recognizable or anything. I should’ve just stolen diet coke._ His lip throbbed, teeth clamping in while he watched the man with a gun at the counter.

“Give me all the money in the register! If it’s not out and in a bag by the time I’m back with the alcohol, it may not be pretty.” The familiar voice wavered, his hands trembling in excitement as he turned away from the cashier. Smile painted over Jeremy’s face, he looked around the store.

Jack hummed, filling her bag with snacks for the rest of the crew. “And don’t even think about hitting that button, you won’t like what we do.”

Ryan’s eyes darted around the store, desperate for an escape from this. His shoes squeaked against the shitty linoleum floor as he fled out the door, hands empty and heart hammering. “That was too fucking close…”

-

Vav’s job done, Ryan shot a message off to the hacker before climbing back into his car. Sweat beaded on his forehead, shirt clinging to his back with sweat as the summer heat of Los Santos rolled off the pavement. AC blasted against his face, mask and jacket freshly in the backseat of the Zentorno.

A chrome Adder skidded to a stop at his door, engine roaring as the driver looked over at him. Ryan wiped his brow before raising an eyebrow at the redheaded driver, sirens wailing in the distance.

“You in?” The man yelled, revving his engine again. “Cops’ll be here any minutes, ya want the thrill of a chase?”

“Oh, what the hell…” Ryan mumbled, closing the door and revving his engine. _Job’s done, might as well have some fun._

The Adder roared down the street, swerving down the corner towards and back road causing Ryan to curse. Sirens drawing ever closer, his Zentorno raced after the trail of dust left by the shining car. Ryan laughed, watching the cops in his mirror as he swerved and zipped past the Adder on a lone highway. If Ryan knew any better, he swore he heard laughing and cursing the cars raced alongside each other down the country road. 

-

The Vagabond sat at the table, knife flipping over his knuckles in a nervous haze he wished he would break. The other men at the table eyed him, wary of the stranger with a knife in their penthouse.

It wasn’t as if he broke in, the Kingpin invited him.

“Vagabond! I wasn’t sure you would show!” Geoff hummed, strutting into the room. “And I’m glad you fucks woke up before noon.”

The lads glared over at him, but only for a second before they were fixed back onto Ryan. Jeremy chewed at his lip, taking in the masked man staring them down from across the table.

“Well, you didn’t fucking tell us we’d be coming in to find a murderer in our penthouse.” Michael snapped, eyes flickering to where Gavin’s hand fidgeted nervously with the leg of his sunglasses.

“I prefer the term hired killer.” Ryan hummed, setting his knife onto the table. “But, what did you call me here for Geoff?”

“You worked pretty well with me and Jack in the past, so I thought we could try it out, see how you fit. Call this a trial run and we’ll see how you fit in with the crew, if you’re up to it?”

Ryan smirked, looking around the room before nodding slowly. “Trial run.”

-

Ryan lounged on the couch, glasses perched along his nose as he flipped the page in his book. Laughter burst into the room, lads jumping onto the couch he was draped across. “Fuck, Gav! My legs!”

“Oops, too bad, Ry!” Gavin laughed, sitting on Ryan’s calves and grabbing his Xbox controller. “You’ve been with us two years now, you know that you’ll just have to deal with it.”

“Oh yeah?” Ryan hummed, looking at the other two lads. Michael and Jeremy pressed their hands over their mouths, enthusiasm building in their eyes. He dog-eared the page in his book, gently setting it on the coffee table before sitting up and picking up Gavin.

“Rye-bread!” Gavin squawked, fumbling his controller as he was thrown over Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan laughed and tossed the Brit into the beanbags laying on the floor, causing laughter to burst from the other lads mouths. “Come on! That wasn’t fair!”

“All’s fair in love and war, Gav.”

Jack looked in the door, a smile spreading over her lips as Ryan sat back on his corner of the couch. “So, what do we want for dinner idiots? It’s Gavin’s turn to help so don’t pick anything _that_ difficult.”

_Contrary to popular belief, The Vagabond found what it means to be a family._


End file.
